


so i can crumble at your side

by Catheria



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Akemi Homura Is Doing Her Best, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety Attacks, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon Homura Time Loop, Scars, this is such a fic by me for me i cant take it.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:27:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28564308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catheria/pseuds/Catheria
Summary: a timeline where madoka and homura fall together in mutual understanding.
Relationships: Akemi Homura & Kaname Madoka, Akemi Homura/Kaname Madoka
Comments: 7
Kudos: 50





	so i can crumble at your side

**Author's Note:**

> i just want homura to be happy and yet

It would be silent in Homura’s apartment if it weren’t for the pouring rain outside and the persistent ticking of the clock inside. The white interior is almost blinding to Homura thanks to her headache, and yet it feels far less empty than usual. 

Madoka sits on one of sparse bits of furniture scattered throughout the room, and her presence alone makes it feel more like a home to Homura than it has over several timelines. Despite the fact that the main reason she came over to begin with was thanks to getting battered by a witch and not wanting her family to see her like this.

“This” being a split lip and a few scratches. Nothing major, but enough to make a Madoka who’s never been injured by a witch before anxious.

Homura hesitates, extending a hand to touch Madoka’s shoulder before quickly withdrawing it and instead asking as detachedly as she can manage, “Would it be ok if I… healed you?”

Madoka slowly turns around to meet her gaze and answers, “Only if it’s not a bother to you.”

Of course Madoka, kind as ever and careful with the knowledge of all magic coming with a price, would deny others help if it was any damage to them. Even if the person in question was Homura.

And Homura knows the only reason Madoka has stumbled into her place is because Mami died a week ago, Sayaka has become a magical girl and began to drown in her own despair, and Kyoko is… Kyoko. It stings a little, but at least this is one of the progressively less common timelines that Madoka and her are pushed together relatively quickly thanks to circumstances.

“Of course not,” Homura says after much too long of a pause. With every tick of the clock Homura feels her temples pulse in retaliation and she doesn’t even realize she’s shut her eyes until Madoka places a hand over Homura’s.

“Homura, are you ok?” she starts gently enough that Homura tears up against her will, “I know you got hit in the head pretty hard when you finished off that witch.”

Without thinking she raises her free hand to her forehead, tracing the bruise that’s started to appear. Nothing half as bad as some of the injuries she’s sustained over the attempts to single handedly kill Wulpurgisnacht, but… embarrassing. She detonated a bomb from a platform closer than she’d anticipated thanks to focusing on Madoka’s safety, only to get flung into a wall from the blast. After a few seconds of remembering Madoka rush over to help her to her feet, she insists, “I’m fine.”

Madoka is silent before slowly raising her hand to fall over Homura’s on her forehead.

“Are you sure?” she asks, the genuine concern in her voice making Homura’s chest tighten.

“I’m sure,” she says slowly, and Madoka hesitantly removes from her hands. Homura has to physically restrain herself from asking Madoka to put them back.

Instead, she summons her soul gem and wills it to mend Madoka’s wounds. The violet glows softly, illuminating Madoka’s face and contrasting with her pink hair freshly ruffled from the fight.

Homura feels warmth blossom in her chest before the sensation briefly escalates into burning. She flinches against her will, and Madoka leans closer to her before placing a hand on her back.

“Still ok?” she inquires, eyes flaring in concern.

“Still ok,” Homura groans, grabbing a grief seed from the table in the center of the barren apartment and clinking it against her soul gem to draw away the bit of darkness that’s appeared.

“Hey, Homura?” Madoka starts shyly, “Would it be ok if I… stayed here for the night?”

This makes Homura’s breath hitch in her throat and her heart start to pound, but she manages to answer, “Of course. Do you need blankets?”

“No, I always carry them on me nowadays just in case… something happens,” Madoka answers, smiling though her eyes betray her true feelings.

Homura sighs before allowing herself to gently lay a hand on Madoka’s shoulder.

“It’s… begun to get to you, hasn’t it?” she asks, throat closing in unwanted emotion.

Madoka is silent, but she moves her hand to rest on top of Homura’s again. When Homura sits next to her she sees the tears running down her cheeks before Madoka turns to face her.

“Mami’s dead. Sayaka will barely talk to me anymore. It’s just… nothing makes sense anymore. Or, well, everything’s different now,” she chokes out, beginning to lean into Homura.

“And I’m not even a magical girl! Everyone else is suffering and I’m still crying over how it affects  _ me _ . I-I’m so stupid!” she breaks down further, burying her face in Homura’s shoulder.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this, we barely know each other,” Madoka sighs, and something in Homura fractures even further.

“You’re not stupid, it’s just… there’s no easy way out of this. Hell, I don’t even know if there  _ is  _ a way out of this,” Homura says, breaking her silence. Her eyes burn with unshed tears.

“Being a magical girl--  _ knowing  _ about magical girls-- changes everything. It’s enough to make anyone break,” Homura chokes out, her chin quivering and a sob building in her throat.

“Even you?” Madoka asks without looking up from Homura’s shoulder.

“ _ Especially _ me.”

The words slip past her lips before she can register them.

Even faster than that Madoka’s wrapped her in her embrace, her cheek pressed against Homura’s and her hands running through her hair.

The warmth of her presence makes Homura’s heart leap even further into her throat, and she shakily returns Madoka’s hug. It isn’t long before it turns to clinging to Madoka for dear life; as if when she lets go she’ll vanish forever.

“Homura, how are you strong enough to live this life alone?” Madoka quietly weeps.

“I have to,” her voice shakes, “I made a promise that I can’t break or else I’ll lose the only person I care about.”

Her voice cracks with emotion towards the end of the sentence, and Homura melts further and further into Madoka’s embrace until she’s certain no force can possibly separate the two of them. Homura can barely breath from suppressing her sobs for Madoka’s sake. Even so, she’s still shaking violently in Madoka’s arms.

“I can’t imagine who would be that important to you, Homura,” Madoka mutters, and it takes every last bit of Homura’s willpower to stop her from blurting out,  _ You! It’s you, Madoka! _

Instead, she buries her head into the crook of Madoka’s neck and tries not to sob as loudly as the emotions boiling inside of her threaten.

Madoka strokes her hair in attempt to comfort Homura, and instead any remaining resolve of Homura’s shatters.

Her chest tightens and hot tears burn her cheeks as she blubbers out, “I’m so sorry I let you even get involved in this.”

“So that’s why you tried to kill Kyubey?” Madoka asks, starting to understand Homura’s previously inexplicable behavior.

“Being a magical girl is the worst fate a person can suffer, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially you,” Homura answers, her tears beginning to dry.

“Why me, I’m not worth anything,” Madoka sighs, and Homura pulls away enough to look her in the eyes.

“Don’t say that!” Homura begs, her eyes burning with tears, “Madoka, you’re kind and selfless and pretty and the best friend anyone could ever wish for! Please, Madoka, people care about you!”

Madoka blinks in disbelief before asking, “Are you one of those people, Homura?”

“I just want you to be happy,” Homura murmurs defeatedly, “I just want you to be safe.”

“Homura…” Madoka says softly, at a loss for words.

“You don’t deserve anything you’re put through, you’re— you’re too kind,” Homura whimpers helplessly.

Madoka seems to sense it’s pointless to argue with Homura, and is silent to the count of ten. Homura buries her face in her hands only to feel Madoka gently wrap her arms around her.

A quiet gasp unintentionally escapes Homura’s lips as Madoka resumes stroking her hair.

“Homura, please don’t cry,” Madoka whispers, voice strained with emotion, “I’m here for you.”

“And I will  _ always _ be here for you, Madoka,” Homura quietly sobs, allowing herself to fall into Madoka’s arms.

“You don’t always have to be the strong one, Homura. Maybe there’s people who care about you too,” Madoka says, and Homura can practically hear her smile.

“Are you one of those people, Madoka?” Homura jokes, and Madoka’s laughter rewards her.

They remain clinging to each other until Madoka softly says, “We should probably go to sleep, it’s late.”

Homura doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she next to never gets a good night’s rest, spending any bit of her freetime making plans to defeat Wulpurgisnacht. To save Madoka from her tragic fate.

Instead, she hoarsely agrees, “Ok.”

Madoka rises to her feet, but not before placing a tender kiss to Homura’s forehead, cupping her cheeks and wiping away her tears with her thumbs. Homura blinks twice in disbelief, and Madoka’s eyes look nearly gold in the harsh lighting for a fraction of a second.

“C’mon, I’ve got enough blankets for both of us and it doesn’t look like you have, well,  _ any _ ,” she smiles so genuinely that Homura’s chest  _ aches _ .

Madoka offers her hand to Homura, and she shakily takes it, rising to her feet before Madoka guides her over to where her backpack is propped against one of Homura’s couches.

“How do you stash so much in that little thing?” Homura asks weakly, looking at the small Hello Kitty bag that Madoka just pulled three blankets and two pillows from.

“I have my ways!” she smiles, but her eyes are tinged in sadness.

Madoka lays down one blanket on the floor before handing Homura another.

“Not an ideal sleepover, but…” she trails off, her hands beginning to shake.

Homura takes them in hers, and Madoka laces their fingers together causing Homura’s breath to hitch in her throat.

“Thank you, Homura. For being here for me,” Madoka stumbles out, blinking away tears to meet Homura’s gaze with a melancholic smile.

“Of course,” Homura answers with a gentle squeeze of Madoka’s hands, “I’ll  _ always  _ be here for you, Madoka. I promise.”

“Homura?” Madoka asks, her voice suddenly laden with concern, “Is your arm bleeding?”

Sure enough, Homura glances down to see her left sleeve stained with splotches of drying scarlet.

“I guess, but it’s fine,” Homura sighs. She didn’t even notice the pain until now, but it’s nothing some bandages and magic can’t fix.

She doesn’t notice Madoka starting to roll up her sleeve to get a better look until it’s too late.

“Oh,” is all Madoka can manage at the sight of Homura’s flesh marred with scars from the countless timelines and times she’s placed herself in harm's way for the girl who still holds onto one of her hands. Between all the times she’s flung herself in front of Madoka in desperation to shield her, bombs gone wrong, and familiars and witches, her skin is a collage of pink & silver markings. The occasional fresh gash here, a new bruise there on top of everything else and after the first few timelines Homura began to wear leggings beneath her school uniform’s skirt in attempt to conceal the array of markings now prominent on her skin.

“Homura…” Madoka trails off, at a loss for words for the millionth time tonight.

“It comes with being a magical girl,” Homura mutters, though she isn’t sure if it’s more out of defense or embarrassment.

“I’ll… uh… break out the first aid kit in my bathroom,” Homura manages to stumble out, beginning to rise to her feet only to feel Madoka’s hand tighten around hers.

“I have some bandaids in my backpack. Homura, please stay,” Madoka says, and Homura sits down on their shared blanket again with an ache in her chest at Madoka’s words.

_ Please stay _ .

How many times had Homura uttered those same desperate words over Madoka’s corpse?

The thought of Madoka’s body lifeless in her arms makes it hard for Homura to breathe.

Her breaths become quick and shallow, and she realizes she’s having an anxiety attack. She shakes against her will, her body feeling as if it doesn't so much as belong to her. Hot tears burn her cheeks as her mind flashes with an onslaught of images of Madoka in her arms failure after failure. The memories seem to act with her headache, making her mind physically painful to possess.

_ Will I… ever succeed…  _ her mind shakily asks as she bites back the sob building in her throat.

What jolts Homura out of her haze of thoughts is the sharp burn of rubbing alcohol on her skin followed by Madoka’s gentle touch.

“Sorry if this stings, but I can’t leave you to take care of these scrapes if you didn’t remember you had them to begin with,” Madoka says kindly, caringly applying a bandaid to a particularly deep cut.

Homura wants to say something,  _ anything _ , but she’s at a loss for words thanks to Madoka and her brain’s panicked state.

Maybe it’s the fact that she’s alive or her overwhelming kindness or her careful touch, but Madoka has stolen away any capability Homura possesses to coherently string words together.

Rather than speak, Homura allows her head to fall into Madoka’s lap while she places more bandaids on her deeper cuts. Her rapid breathing and racing mind slow with Madoka’s steady presence, and for once Homura feels safe.

It’s silent while Madoka gently applies each bandage and Homura’s exhaustion begins to catch up with her. It’s strange for her to feel so drowsy at only midnight; she usually stays up until at least one and then stops time in order to avoid the inevitable guilt that results in sleeping while the world goes on without her watch over Madoka. Come to think of it, it’s only thanks to Madoka’s care and touch that she’s allowed herself to become so vulnerable. So comfortable.

“Better?” Madoka asks, brushing a strand of Homura’s hair out of her face.

Homura takes in the array of carefully arranged pink bandages adorning her scarred skin before letting herself smile, “Thank you.”

“Wait, one more thing!” Madoka laughs before gently pressing her lips against a single bandaid along Homura’s forearm.

Homura’s cheeks burn while Madoka softly says, “ _ Now _ you should feel better.”

“Of course!” Homura chokes out a little too soon, Madoka’s fingers still in her hair. She’s still shaky from her headache and anxiety attack, but she manages to break through the fog of thoughts clouding her mind for Madoka’s sake.

“Glad to hear it,” Madoka answers before hesitantly asking, “Would you mind if I… braided your hair?”

Homura is taken aback by Madoka’s request. Memories of other timelines flash before her eyes; times she still wore her braids but none of them in which Madoka had braided it.

“Sorry, it’s just when I get anxious I like to braid and your hair is so nice and long and soft and-” Madoka cuts herself off and Homura can feel her embarrassment.

“No, it’s not a problem at all!” Homura replies a little too quickly, her face growing warm again with her own bashfulness and her heart still racing a little from her anxiety attack.

“Thank you!” Madoka comments, voice still laced with self-consciousness. Homura reluctantly sits up while Madoka places herself on one of Homura’s couches so she can easily weave her hair.

Homura sits criss-crossed on the floor while Madoka begins to run her hands through her hair again, separating it into two divisions and tying off one with a spare ribbon.

It’s comfortably silent besides the tick of the pendulum, the rain against the roof, and Madoka’s occasional quiet hum. Homura’s headache has faded significantly and she’s near certain it’s only thanks to Madoka’s presence. The affection she feels for the girl is more healing than any kind of magic.

As Madoka dexterously braids Homura’s hair, she begins to realize just how much she’s missed her touch. Her care. The past few timelines have led to nothing but Madoka and Homura growing further and further apart to the point where if Madoka so much as talked to her Homura considered it a blessing. Madoka being alive, nonetheless on good terms with her, is enough to make Homura tear up.

The more Madoka braids her hair the more Homura feels like she’s putting her back together. Any remaining unease begins to deteriorate from Madoka’s care, and Homura feels the constant tenseness of her body relax for once. The back of Madoka’s knuckles running against the nape of Homura’s neck feels more healing than costly magic ever has.

_ A reminder of what I’ve been fighting for… _ Homura thinks drowsily, allowing her hand to trace the locket hidden beneath her shirt.

“Done!” Madoka announces happily, tying off the second of her twinning braids and once again saving Homura from her thoughts, “Good thing I always carry extra hair ties.”

Homura feels as if she’s back to being the skittish, meek, and generally unwell girl who was lucky enough to have Madoka lead her to the nurse’s office and later save her life. She finds herself fighting the urge to adjust glasses she knows aren’t even there. Homura turns to face Madoka only for Madoka to let out a small gasp.

“I feel like I’ve met you before,” Madoka says, taking in Homura with twinning braids.

Homura feels her throat constrict with emotion, saying nothing as Madoka tenderly cups her cheek to look into her eyes.

“Scratch that, I feel like I’ve known you  _ forever _ ,” she continues, and Homura’s heartbeat is deafening in her eardrums, “Maybe it’s just because it’s impossible to find anyone who understands anymore.”

“Maybe,” Homura echoes, her hand closing around the locket hidden beneath her sweater.

Without further commentary Madoka returns to sitting on the floor next to Homura, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders. Madoka’s head falls on Homura’s shoulder, and without thinking she wraps an arm around Madoka’s shoulders to hold her closer.

“You know, you’re a good person Homura. Despite the tough act you constantly put up, you’re genuinely kind and understanding,” Madoka murmurs half asleep into Homura’s shirt, leaving Homura once again speechless.

“Just… thank you for being here for me, Homura. Especially tonight,” Madoka says before adding, “You’re actually kind of a sweetheart.”

With that, she pecks Homura’s cheek with a kiss before snuggling into Homura’s side to sleep. Homura feels like her face is aflame and her heart is going to beat out of her chest, the skin where Madoka’s lips graced still tingling from the contact.

Homura works up the nerve to place her lips to Madoka’s forehead, muttering, “Of course, Madoka.”

Madoka says nothing, but instead smiles and intertwines her hand with Homura’s.

“Goodnight, Homura,” she says after a few seconds, gently squeezing Homura’s hand.

“Goodnight, Madoka,” Homura replies, tracing her thumb over the back of Madoka’s hand.

* * *

After Madoka drifts asleep, Homura slowly opens the locket that’s adorn her neck since the first timeline.

It’s gold and heart shaped and fits with more than enough room in the center of her palm, but she could never stand to lose it. It holds her most treasured possession; a torn, faded, bloodstained picture of her and Madoka together, arms wrapped around each other and grinning.

“I’ll find a way to save you, Madoka. Even if it costs my life, I’ll find a way out. I’ll protect you,” she promises aloud, tears dripping onto the weathered locket.

She closes the small and precious object before allowing herself to curl against Madoka, who pulls Homura a little closer despite being asleep. At her side, her braids in her hair, the bandaids on her skin… Madoka is everywhere tonight.

Homura slowly falls asleep to the sound of rain against the building and the rise and fall of Madoka’s chest, allowing her perpetual haze of thoughts to fade away in a fleeting moment of comfort.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! find me on tumblr @homuradoka


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